


Pulling the Red String

by She5los



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bullying, Canon-typical self-sabotage, Duelling, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing the homies as is custom, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, More characters and ships as I add chapters, My Linhardt is nb so I can't in good conscience call the first chapter M/M, Other, Soulmates who know where the other is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:54:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22091404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/She5los/pseuds/She5los
Summary: Everyone knows the way you know your soulmate is by feeling when they're close, commonly called the "soulmate tug."  It's a sort of longing to be somewhere else, but that somewhere is wherever your soulmate is.  The students at Garreg Mach are in for some surprises and mix-ups figuring out exactly who their soulmates are!
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring, Edelgard von Hresvelg/Petra Macneary, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 17
Kudos: 238





	1. Childhood Friends (Linhardt and Caspar)

Linhardt woke to loud footsteps pounding toward him in the grass. He blinked in the summer sunlight that reflected off that fair blue hair and asked, “Do you really have to stomp everywhere?”

“You didn’t even hide!” Caspar argued. “What’s the point of hide-and-seek if you never hide?”

Lin smirked. “I’m not so certain there’s any point to it, anyway, when it’s us,” he pointed out.

Cas shrugged. “Fair enough,” he said, and sat down next to Linhardt -- loudly. “I thought it’d be more fun, but you never hide very well, and you’re way too good at finding me.”

“Scrumping is more my style, anyway,” Linhardt pointed out, and pulled an apple out of his pocket to bite into it.

Caspar stared. Caspar spent a lot of his time staring. “Aren’t you supposed to leave before you eat them?” he asked.

“Nobody’s here,” Lin pointed out. “Bet you can get a nice one, too, if you’re up for a little climbing.”

.-._.-._.-._

Linhardt disappeared, as Linhardt was wont to do, sometime between lunch and the start of class.

Edelgard just sighed and said, “Alright, Cas, go find him," and Caspar went, because really, what did Linhardt expect?

He found him in the library. His first guess was usually either right or close, probably because they were such good friends.

"Leave me alone," Linhardt mumbled when Caspar found his table. "At least have them send someone else next time, make it a fair fight."

Caspar laughed, trying to keep his volume down since, after all, they were in the library. "Nobody else knows you like me, though," he pointed out. "They wouldn't know where to look!"

"That would be rather the point," Linhardt told him drily, making no move to pack up his things so they could get moving. "Next time, tell her to send someone who hasn't felt the tug."

The tug? Wait,  _ the _ tug??? The soulmate tug? Caspar slammed his hands down on the table. "Wait! Linhardt, you've felt--" he looked around and there were no other visible library patrons. It was class time, after all. "--you've felt the soulmate tug?"

Lin just looked confused. Caspar was proud to be one of a very small number of people who could bring that expression to his face. Linhardt knew a lot of things, almost everything, and Caspar could still baffle him. "Ye-e-es," he said slowly. "I usually ignore it, though."

"Why?" This was so exciting! Way more exciting than class! "Who is it? Have you met her?"

"He usually comes to me," Linhardt told him. "Even when I would prefer otherwise."

"Well, who is it?" Caspar asked. He needed to meet Linhardt's soulmate! "Do I know him? Is he nice? When do I get to meet him?" How had he missed the mystery man? He and Linhardt hung out all the time!

"Caspar, go back and tell dear old El that I won't be coming," Linhardt told him, and folded his arms on the table and laid his head down on them. "I'm very tired suddenly. You understand."

That was really too bad -- their class was going to be on strategy in the back lines, so it would be especially useful for Linhardt -- but Caspar guessed it couldn't be helped. He straightened Linhardt's papers and books, and planted a good-night kiss on the back of his head (he'd started when they were young and they moved up from nurses to governesses, and Lin's weird sleep patterns started to become obvious, and Caspar wanted to make sure Linhardt didn't feel too lonely when he slept. Linhardt had never objected, so he'd never stopped) and returned to class without his friend.

The Professor looked at him when he walked into the room, and he just shrugged. Everyone knew Lin just couldn't be convinced sometimes, not even by his best friend.

He tried to focus on back-line strategy, but it really wasn't his specialty (he'd tried archery, but he wouldn't say he was "good" at it) and he couldn't stop thinking about Linhardt's soulmate. They'd met, or Lin wouldn't know the gender. Was he an Academy student? Who did Linhardt talk to? The librarian and Hanneman, but they were older; Manuela, but she was a woman; maybe Ferdinand? He didn't seem to like Ferdinand that much, but part of meeting your soulmate was figuring out how to grow together. For some people, that could get pretty rocky.

If it wasn't someone at the Academy, Caspar would never figure it out. The problem bugged him so much, he left class feeling like he needed to punch something, and then he couldn't get it out of his mind during afternoon training, either, so he went to the secret fighting spot under the bridge and wrestled for a bit to clear his mind, and then Linhardt wasn't at dinner to heal up his bruises and he didn't know why Linhardt felt far away from him when they'd just seen each other that afternoon and Linhardt had been gone for that long plenty of times before, anyway.

He grabbed some pork buns, since he didn't want to keep sulking, and took them to the library.

"Lin? Hey, Linhardt?"

Lin appeared at the doorway to the science section. Caspar wasn't big on libraries, but he knew where the healers and poison brewers and crestologists hung out. (Was it Claude? Was it Hubert, somehow? Was Hubert going to be his best-friend-in-law?) "Could you keep it down? Remember where you are," he scolded. "Come on, I don't want you getting kicked out." Caspar followed him toward the back of the library. He was expecting harsh words and gentle hands that soothed his aches, but he didn't get either. "Have you figured it out?" Linhardt asked, instead.

"I've been trying all afternoon," Caspar whispered. "For a while, I thought it was Ferdinand, because it couldn't be Hubert, but then I realized Hubert must spend a lot of time in the library, and Claude does, too, so that set me all the way back to not knowing again, and that's even if it's someone who's studying the same things as you."

"I lied," Linhardt said, stopping short on their way back to the table he'd picked. "I don't care if you get yourself kicked out anymore. Yell all you like," and he walked much more quickly toward his table, using long strides Caspar had to run to match.

"Wait! I brought you pork buns!" Caspar told him at the lowest volume he could manage. He put his napkin bundle of pork buns down next to Linhardt's books and notes. "Since you didn't come to dinner."

"Don't care," Lin told him, looking at his book and not at Caspar. "Come find me when you figure it out."

"Someone who always finds you," Caspar muttered to himself. He was already sitting across from Linhardt, so if he was lucky, his friend would just get sick of his theorizing and give him the answer. "So they have to be in our house… But maybe not? Because maybe you didn't mean they 'find you' like they come get you during class, like I do, but they come find you in the off-hours, like when you're in the library or napping someplace weird… But I don't think I've met them, or at least not more than once or twice, because I would notice…"

"If it's so difficult, why don't you ask someone?" Linhardt suggested.

Caspar waggled his eyebrows at him.

"Not me. Anyone else. And find someone to heal you, would you? You can't just walk around all bruised when you have training tomorrow." And Linhardt looked down at his book.

Caspar wanted to say: I thought you would heal me. Linhardt always had, ever since they were kids. If spending dinner without Linhardt made Caspar feel empty, the refusal to heal him felt even worse.

Sometimes, Linhardt got rude when he was really just embarrassed. Maybe he felt bad about not introducing his soulmate to Caspar? So Caspar said, "Yeah, I'm gonna go ask Dorothea. She knows a lot about relationships!" and would have gotten himself booted from the library if he wasn't already on his way out.

He left the pork buns, though.

.-._.-._.-._

Caspar knocked on Dorothea's door. It wasn't exactly great form, but it wasn't  _ too _ late.

She opened the door and said, "Oh, um, hi, Caspar. What's up?"

"Do you have a minute?" Cas asked her. "You know a lot about relationships, right? Can you help me figure something out?"

Dorothea frowned. "Well, I'm not sure I'm the expert on  _ your _ situation, but I'll do my best," she promised. "Come in." She opened her door and Caspar followed her in. He sat on her chair and she sat on the bed. "What seems to be the trouble?"

"Did you know Lin already found his soulmate?" Caspar asked. "And he got really mad when I didn't know who it was, and now he won't talk to me until I figure it out." 

"Oh, wow, totally different direction than I expected," Dorothea muttered under her breath. Then she smiled at Caspar and asked, "Well, what do you know about this person?"

"He said it's a guy. Who comes to find him a lot, so he never needs to follow the tug. But I can't think who it could be! We spend tons of time together, and I've never noticed him trying to spend time with anyone else!"

"Oh, sweetie…" Dorothea leaned toward him. "Aren't  _ you _ a guy who always goes and finds him?"

"Oh, I've never felt the tug," Caspar told her, a little bashfully. "I'm still waiting."

"Uh-huh." Dorothea leaned back, supporting herself with her arms out behind her. "So, how do you find him when Edelgard sends you?"

"Oh, I just know him really well," Caspar told her. "He isn't that hard to predict."

"And where is he right now?"

"In the library, still," Caspar said easily. "I brought him some pork buns, so hopefully he's eating those."

Dorothea nodded. "And what are some other places you've found him?"

"Uhhh, his room. The dining hall. The lake, a couple times when he was  _ really _ refusing to come to class. I don't see how this helps me figure out his soulmate."

"And you accompany him for his after-class nap sometimes, right? How do you find him for that?"

"Well, I think about what kind of day it is and what mood he's in. And I'll say: oh, it's sunny and Lin's been feeling good. We must be sleeping in the orchard today. Or, oh, it's a heat wave and he's been feeling extra lazy, he's probably found a shady spot down by the river. I was really proud of myself for finding him that time; we'd never napped there before!"

"Linhardt has so much more patience than I ever gave him credit for," Dorothea told him. "Caspar, it's you. You're his soulmate. Go make up with him. The whole school knows already.  _ You're _ the man who always finds him, which you do during class and in our free time. This is the most painfully obvious thing I've ever had to tell someone."

Caspar stared at her. She hadn't raised her voice or anything, but she was definitely frustrated with him. People who weren't Linhardt got that way a lot. "I've never felt the tug, though," he reminded her.

"You've never been more than six feet away from him!" Dorothea said. "How are you going to feel tugged toward someone you never leave?" She stood and walked him to her door. "Get out of my room, Caspar. Go talk to Linhardt about how you're such perfect boyfriends, one of you never even felt the tug."

Her door closed on him pretty quickly, so he started on a long path through the hallways while he tried to go through it in his head.

If they were soulmates, why hadn't Linhardt told him years ago? Did he not realize until recently? Was he embarrassed it took him so long to figure out? He should've known Caspar would take even longer to notice. And Cas still wasn't completely convinced that it was him. Edelgard wouldn't have figured out they had a soulbond before Caspar, would she? Dorothea had acted like it was public knowledge, but then why was Caspar the last to know?

It clicked into place for him when he ran into Linhardt.

He was up on top of the castle, walking in the cool night air to clear his head, and Linhardt was leaning over a parapet, looking up at the sky. He had no reason to be there -- it wasn't somewhere they'd ever gone together, they hadn't planned to meet up there, Caspar had just been wandering at random and thinking about Lin and thought maybe he'd try to clear his head up on the wall. As Caspar approached, Linhardt turned to look at him and asked, "You asked her, right?"

Caspar saw Linhardt every day, several times a day. But this was his first time seeing his soulmate and knowing it. He sprinted toward Linhardt and nearly bowled both of them over when he wrapped his soulmate up in a big hug. And, once Linhardt had both feet on the ground again, he hugged him back, tucking Caspar's head against his bony, warm chest.


	2. Everything's Coming Up Edelgard (Ferdinand/Hubert)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferdinand is his own special, enthusiastic brand of dumbass. It takes Hubert five years to realize and clear things up.

_ New school, new me _ , Ferdinand thought to himself his first morning at Garreg Mach. He wasn't going to be the shy son of an ignoble aristocrat anymore; he was going to be a true noble and face his peers with confidence.

Even better, beyond his expectations, the soulmate tug had followed him to Garreg Mach. For over a year, he'd felt that sharp longing drawing him to the Palace, but now he felt it drawing him to the same students' quarters where he was settling into his room. He couldn't wait to meet his soulmate; surely, they would be excited to learn their own soulmate was the future Prime Minister and Duke of Aegir, as well as a young man determined to grow into a nobler person than his father. Since he had managed to avoid marriage so far by reminding his parents that he had a soulmate and that soulmate was Definitely Not In Varley, he was excited to meet the person he was most suited to.

The first weekend, though, he just unpacked his things and tried to get oriented.

.-._.-._.-._

Everything was coming up Edelgard, and Ferdinand couldn't be more pleased.

Whenever Ferdinand followed the tug in his chest, the special connection that showed him where his soulmate was, it led him to Lady Edelgard! He hadn't had a chance to talk with her about it, since her unfortunate shadow was always following her around, but what a way for him to move up in the world! And what a good reassurance to Lady Edelgard that her Prime Minister would not try to overwhelm her power when she ascended to the throne!

He even set about trying to befriend Hubert, difficult as it was, to ensure Edelgard knew he was on her side, not just his own. It was a difficult friendship, to be certain, and they had very little in common, but he was happy to make the attempt for her sake. Even if he surpassed her and was able to clear the way for her in training, what good would that do if he wasn't able to be kind to her friends?

.-._.-._.-._

In the eleventh hour of the war, Ferdinand was kidnapped and Hubert was  _ busy _ .

It practically killed him, being able to do nothing about it. The exact second he was done brewing his potions and setting his magical traps, he burst into Edelgard's tent with no regard for the time or any company she might have. "I'm taking a squadron to find him," he announced. El was just discussing something with Linhardt, so that was fine.

"Flames, Hubert, have you tried asking before you just barge in?" El asked as she scrambled to pull her dressing gown up to cover her shoulders.

"I'm taking a squadron to find Ferdinand," Hubert repeated. "Who can we spare?"

"You just walked in on me, tits out, as I tried to ask Lin about--"

"I was thinking his cavaliers would be raring to get him back. He has some hardy men."

"Yeah, take some cavaliers, whatever! Take twenty of them and one of Lin's healers; we can spare that. Don't walk in on me like that again!"

Hubert smiled in a way he knew people who weren't El always found intimidating. "Oh, don't worry. Nobody's going to kidnap him again when they see what I do to these lowlifes."

.-._.-._.-._

Ferdinand didn't know if it had been a day or a week or three weeks since he'd been captured. Surely, this much pain couldn't fit in one day, but pain had a way of warping the mind's perception of time.

When he heard the door open, he assumed it was his interrogator, come to ask more questions about Edelgard's plans, but instead he heard a familiar voice hiss, "This way! He's down here!" and the tramp of many feet in the stairwell, and he found himself crying without meaning to.

"Ferdinand! Ferdinand, I'm here. There's nothing to fear anymore." With a snap of Hubert's hands, his chains broke, and someone took his wrist to begin trying keys on his shackles as he sagged against Edelgard's spymaster.

"Where's Edelgard?" he asked. His words slurred; he would have to fix his diction by the time he returned to camp.

"She is at camp, of course, awaiting your return." Thin fingers ran through his matted hair, then gave up and stroked over the top of it.

"Good." He wished they could have found him faster, but of course even one of their generals was not as essential as their future emperor. "I am glad she sent you in her stead, even if it delayed my rescue."

Hubert's muscles turned to stone under him. He was decidedly less comfortable to lean against when he was so stiff. "Get that blasted medic over here!" he yelled, thankfully after turning his head away from Ferdinand's ear. "He's speaking nonsense!"

"But I still selfishly wish she'd come with you, to guide you, even though I know it would put her at risk."

His legs fell out from under him then, and his breathing hitched with sobs as Hubert carefully lowered him to the ground. "Have you forgotten who your soulmate is?" Hubert asked as he tried to arrange Ferdie's legs comfortably under him. "El would never have found you in this maze, Ferdinand. She sent me because I could find you no matter what."

Warm fingertips touched his shoulder blade and heat radiated out as his back laced itself back together. He convulsed with the suddenness of the change. It had taken such a long time, and such a lot of stubbornness, to get those injuries, and now they were all being zipped up at once. But the pain of healing left a surprising clarity in its wake. "Edel-- the Empress is my soulmate," Ferdinand said, and his voice already sounded clearer. "I always thought, since the Academy--"

"We will discuss it later," Hubert assured him, and the man trying to free his wrists found the right key and then, before he knew it, all of his shackles were gone and the healer had returned to rub the life back into his wrists and ankles.

Even with such expedient healing, Ferdinand leaned on Hubert on the long walk up out of the dungeon. "How long was I there for?" he asked, wanting to know how long it had been since he'd walked at all.

"Six days," Hubert said directly. "I am so sorry; by the time we knew you'd been taken, I had several multi-day processes going, and abandoning them would mean hundreds or thousands would die. I came for you the second I was able."

It hit Ferdinand all at once: the six wasted and painful days of his life; the reality that he was being rescued; and the fact that, if his soulmate was Edelgard, she could have sent someone else in those six days. But she waited to send Hubert. Because Ferdinand's soulmate tug had always led him to the pair of them, and the one he'd really found had been Hubert the whole time. He was embarrassed to slow the whole squadron down when his legs gave out again and he had to sit down and sob on the stairs, but Hubert's gentle hands were all over him, pulling his hair out of his face, rubbing up and down his arms and back, and Hubert's gentle voice (well, as gentle as Hubert's voice got) was offering reassurances and asking questions of the healer: "Slow, Ferdinand, slow, there is time to feel it all. --Is this normal? --Yes, I know, but is it normal enough, after something like this? --Did you hear that, Ferdinand? All is well. This will pass."

Hubert kept talking to him gently, touching him gently, until the tears subsided enough that he could breathe again. "I should-- I'm so sorry. And in front of everyone--"

"You were tortured," Hubert reminded him. "Anyone would do the same."

Ferdinand took in a shuddering breath, as deep as he could. "Still. Hardly the way a general should carry himself. I think I can walk the rest of the way with you now."

The remaining trek up the stairs was exhausting, but at least they stopped outside to eat and drink before the journey back. Hubert tended to him like he was an invalid or a child, offering water and crackers and sharing an apple with him.

"How far is it to camp?" Ferdie asked when he started thinking again instead of just taking everything moment-by-moment.

"A day and a half," Hubert said. "I am sorry for the long ride, but it can't be helped."

"And you had to ride a horse all that time? Oh, you must have hated that," Ferdinand said sympathetically, trying out a little flirting now that Hubert had insisted they were soulmates.

It worked. A splotchy red blush rose to Hubert's cheeks and Ferdinand grinned.

There was only one test left to do: the most important one. Edelgard and Hubert were about as far apart as they could be, so Ferdinand listened to the pull in his chest, the one that told him where he would find his soulmate.

His heart told him his soulmate was right there with him.

He relaxed and leaned against the man currently explaining that he'd ridden longer distances for less important goals. Other things would come later: explanations to his liege and her most senior advisors of how he and his men had been caught, why he was the only one who survived, and everything they had tried to ask him about. But his soulmate was here now, coaxing him to eat and drink, fussing over his every downcast glance, complimenting his bravery. For now, it was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm happy to take requests for this! So far, I only have three stories, but that can definitely change! Even if your faves are already taken in this AU, I'm happy to branch off and do, say, Linhardt/Bernadetta or Ferdinand/Dorothea, or whatever sounds fun. :)
> 
> Next story is Edelgard/Petra, and I really like its ending!


	3. Summer Marriage (Edelgard and Petra)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When she goes to the Officers' Academy, Edelgard is delighted to learn that her days of staring longingly into the sunset are over. After the War, though, are she and Petra worse off than before?

Hubert was seventeen when Edelgard turned to him after a full day together and said, "I felt the tug today." The significance of the statement -- that they weren't soulmates; that Hubert being a late bloomer was not due to their age difference; that there was, after all, nothing more than happenstance holding them together -- crashed over Hubert like a wave.

"Do you know where?" he asked, trying to sound calm. He had dedicated his life to her. Just then, he was braiding her hair for bed. How had fate not decided there was something destined between them?

"To the west," El told him. "Quite far away. I couldn't say if it was Adrestia or Brigid. But I felt it very strongly. I wanted to run out of the palace and commission a boat to take me there." Hubert sectioned the first half of her hair and made the first couple twists. "They say the tug is when your heart feels as if it lives elsewhere."

"Was that how it felt to you?" Hubert asked, trying to sound distant. Trying to sound like this wasn't going to reduce him to a piteous, tearful mess when he was alone, just for tonight.

"My heart can only live in Adrestia," she said. "It can only belong to her. But, if it could live anywhere else, I think I would have ditched you at the first opportunity to catch a boat."

Hubert tied off the first braid with a thin purple ribbon that matched his lady's eyes.

"If it could live anywhere else," he promised her, "I would have helped you secure your ticket."

.-._.-._.-._

A year passed, and the knowledge that Edelgard wasn't his soulmate stopped making him feel as if he couldn't breathe. But the pain didn't go away for Edelgard; in the evenings, she watched the sunset with longing eyes, and sometimes Hubert held her hand.

What changed for Hubert was that he felt the tug, as well.

He felt it on an ordinary Friday, as he shadowed his father at a policy meeting: a longing, an urge, to get up and leave. To walk out of the room and down the hill from the palace, into the wealthy residential district where the nobility lived. But, even if he had the time, he would only get lost that way; they said the first tug didn't last long, and learning to feel it at will took time and practice.

It was just a quick pull, and then it was gone, and he was back to listening to adults discuss the Empire's granaries and oil reserves.

It was just a feeling, and feelings could be ignored.

.-._.-._.-._

They rode together to Garreg Mach, the Crown Princess and her most trusted, most intimate companion. They were half a day out from the monastery when El turned to him and said, "My soulmate is close."

"Close?" Hubert asked. It wasn't even his soulmate, but he felt his own heart rate pick up.

Edelgard nodded. "Very close. Maybe they'll be at the Academy with us, Hubert! Wouldn't that be wonderful?"

"It would be ideal," Hubert admitted. Edelgard could spend her whole life longing fruitlessly, if her country demanded it, but meeting her soulmate would be a dream come true.

"We might get to spend every day together!" she pointed out. "It must be fate! I want to kick my horse into a gallop! I want to… I want to meet them so badly, Hubert."

"There will be time," Hubert reminded her, but he was smiling, too. Then he felt a pull in his chest, unmistakably the tug, leading him the same way. "Oh. I… Mine, too."

"Yours? ...Your soulmate?" El asked.

Hubert nodded.

"Same place?"

"Yes."

El grinned at him. "What a good year at school!"

Hubert nodded. He couldn't say he looked forward to meeting his soulmate. They were a distraction, nothing more. There would be time later, when his lady's goals were accomplished, but what would he even do with a soulmate now? Fool around with them in the stables and hallways? Court them in his nonexistent free time? No, with the way his life was now, a soulmate would be no use to him. Best to be cordial, but distant.

.-._.-._.-._

He and El lost and won the fate lottery, respectively.

Edelgard's soulmate was the Princess of Brigid, a fine match for the Princess of Adrestia, a friendly and well comported young woman whose sole flaw seemed to be some difficulty conjugating verbs. She looked a touch silly in her Garreg Mach uniform, but Hubert could imagine her looking quite fetching in Brigid clothing. She was, all around, a likable person and Hubert hoped she and Edelgard would suit each other well.

Hubert's soulmate, in contrast, was… the kindest thing he could say was that the man was a bit rough around the edges. And Hubert did want to be kind! He harbored no grudge against his soulmate simply for existing. But he worried he'd strangle the poor boy within the year if he kept on the way he was.

Ferdinand von Aegir was annoying, overconfident, and had no sense whatsoever of what was appropriate. He second-guessed Edelgard, and only Edelgard, frequently and with an uncomfortable familiarity. He followed the two of them around and then pretended they'd just happened to run into each other, as if they didn't know he could follow his soulmate tug straight to Hubert. He never shut up about horses. And, to top it off, he had a general policy of ignoring Hubert completely, despite stalking him as his soulmate. Hubert hadn't even planned to acknowledge their relationship, but now he felt actively ignored, and he hated feeling so much resentment about something he didn't even want in the first place.

Maybe, when the Aegir boy finally deigned to acknowledge him, Hubert’s response was a bit cold. It was difficult to make a good-faith effort to get along with his soulmate after being snubbed for so long, no matter how Lady Edelgard encouraged him. What did she know? She and Petra had hit it off easily, taking “hunting trips” and “study sessions” together, carefully not broaching the issue of Brigid’s sovereignty until later in the school year. What did El know about dealing with a soulmate who seemed designed to get under one’s skin?

Hubert just couldn’t respect someone so self-obsessed. His self-confidence came from getting things done, while Ferdinand’s seemed to come from nothing at all. Maybe, if he was being uncomfortably honest, Hubert would admit that he was jealous of Ferdinand’s constant posturing in front of Lady Edelgard, that he wanted his soulmate to pay him that same attention. But he didn’t see any reason to make concessions to someone so infuriating.

.-._.-._.-._

The War came and went. Hubert and Ferdinand cleared up the unfortunate misunderstanding that had led Ferdie to be so forward with Edelgard and withdrawn with Hubert, and Ferdinand turned into a sort of puppy that refused to leave Hubert alone for even a few hours when they were in the same place. And Edelgard and Petra were worse off than before.

Petra and her company had proven instrumental, even essential, to Edelgard’s success. It would be unnaturally cruel for the Empress to send her soulmate home to lead a country that was subservient to her own. But to marry the Crown Princess would be to tie Adrestia to Brigid in a way that would harm Brigid politically, and to sidestep the real issue at hand: the compassionate thing to do would be to free Brigid, and that meant the rulers of Brigid and Adrestia would always have a sea between them.

They spoke of it at length: Edelgard and Hubert and Ferdinand, trying to puzzle out any way for both women to achieve their political goals with any proximity to each other, and Edelgard and Petra trying to reassure each other that their feelings were real and separation would not change their love and respect for each other.

Perhaps, in her desperation to reassure her soulmate, Emperor Edelgard had forgotten that her Minister of the Imperial Household had as intimate an understanding of Adrestian customs and geography as she did.

Perhaps, in their ongoing conversations, Hubert had forgotten to mention his assumption that Edelgard knew she and her soulmate would be able to see each other once a year.

“I was looking over my schedule for the month,” El told him as Spring waned and the city air started to heat up, in the listless tone of someone staying up past her bedtime. “There’s a gap in the week of the twenty-sixth. Everything else looks fine.”

“That’s travel time,” Hubert told her automatically as he worked at a cipher. “I doubt we could Teleport you all the way to the Palace on the Fangs.”

“Hubert, you know as well as I do that no one’s used the… Palace… on the Fangs… Hubert, you  _ didn’t _ .”

“I can neither confirm nor deny anything until you ask me directly, Your Majesty.” He pulled his mind away from the cipher, though.

El’s eyes went red with unshed tears as she said, “You can’t revive a tradition that’s been dead over a century so I can see my girlfriend.”

“Doctor’s orders, I’m afraid,” Hubert told her, keeping a carefully detached tone. “Unfortunately, the Emperor of Adrestia has been cursed with fickle health, so the sea breeze coming into the west coast should be just what she needs in Summer.”

“You’re hopelessly romantic, do you know that?” El asked him.

“I thought we might invite Brigid to send a diplomatic party, to ensure everyone is satisfied with the conditions of their independence,” Hubert said, proud that he was keeping his voice calm and serious. “The letter only awaits your signature and seal.”

“I think I’ll need to see my scribe in the morning,” Edelgard told him, and her voice finally broke. “Arrange for the meeting, Minister.”

Hubert nodded and said, “As my Emperor commands.” Then he stood and said, “The hour grows late. You will want to be well rested to review your scribes’ work in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This is the last of the chapters I have prepared, so updates will be spottier from here on out. I'm working on a Sylvain/Ashe one right now, though!


	4. Hot and Cold (Sylvain and Ashe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe just wants to meet his soulmate and make some friends at school. Sylvain says he does, too, but he's acting like a jerk and there's only so much Ashe will put up with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for Moonlord, who requested some Blue Lions ships. Sorry for the wait; it took forever to get the ending sewn up!

Ashe’s tug pulled him to-- not the courtyard. He’d thought he was going to the courtyard, but he was actually going to… That little alcove. The one where Sylvain was looking up from his conversation with Felix. The one where Sylvain was batting a hand at his friend as he left the conversation.

And the soulmate tug moved as Sylvain walked down the open hallway toward Ashe.

“Ashe. Nice to see you,” Sylvain said, smiling a little tightly.

“Sylvain. Is this… Are you…?”

Sylvain nodded. “Yes.” He bowed, and Ashe bowed in response. Was that the right way to greet a noble soulmate? “A true blessing to meet you in this way,” Sylvain said, which had to be some traditional greeting, right? It sounded too formal to be his own words. There would be a traditional response that Ashe had never learned, so he said nothing as they both straightened. “And… I’m sorry you got stuck with me.” And Sylvain turned to go.

“Wait!” Ashe said when he realized Sylvain was leaving the conversation before it had even started. Sylvain stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “Is that all? Aren’t we gonna talk about this?”

Sylvain swiveled on one foot to face him again. “Alright. What do you want to talk about?”

Ashe stammered over the several things he wanted to say: they needed to introduce themselves properly, and what did Sylvain mean,  _ sorry _ , and what would the future hold? He finally settled on, “You think you can just leave a conversation like this before it’s even started?”

Sylvain sighed like it was some huge burden to have to talk to his soulmate, and came forward to put an arm around Ashe’s shoulders. “Here, let’s go get lunch together,” he said. “We can talk about all the political implications, and the bullshit, and how we’re both pretty trapped now. Sound good?”

“You’re not making sense,” Ashe told Sylvain. Told his soulmate. “What are you talking about, ‘trapped’? It’s just a soulbond.” There were plenty of people who rejected their soulbonds, rejected the idea that some trick of fate would tell them more about who they should be with than just doing their best at every stage of their lives, but that didn’t sound like what Sylvain was talking about. There were plenty more people who felt like a soulbond was just a connection, something that was meaningful but not necessarily the basis for romance, and formed strong friendships with their soulmates. That was definitely not what Sylvain was talking about.

“Ashe… You understand, the heirs of noble houses have obligations. To their people, as well as their families.” The arm around his shoulder felt warm and comforting just a moment ago, but now it felt tense. “I have to marry a noblewoman, and it’s going to be someone my parents pick. I don’t want to get your hopes up when--”

“My hopes weren’t up, anyway,” Ashe interrupted. “A soulbond is just a soulbond. If you want to reject it outright, do what you want, I guess, but why are you acting so weird about it?” He’d been following the tug out of curiosity. Sylvain hadn’t even been following his tug; he’d just felt that Ashe was nearby and turned to look.

“I’m not rejecting you,” Sylvain reassured him. “I just… don’t have the option of making my own choices. But of course I’ll fulfill all my obligations, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Ashe didn’t know what to say to that. Sylvain had just told him he had no choice but to reject the soulbond, so why was he insisting he wasn’t? “I think we need to have this conversation another time,” he admitted. “I feel like we’re having two different conversations, and I can feel myself acting like a jerk and I don’t like it.” He put a hand over Sylvain’s, sitting loosely on his shoulder. “Whatever you’re trying to say, I’m sure it’s not that bad. We didn’t even know each other until a few weeks ago, so we definitely won’t be worse off than before we knew, okay? Maybe we could spar together tomorrow night?”

“Hah-- seems like I’m surrounded by people who want me to train with them nonstop,” Sylvain told him.

Ashe smiled and said, “Watch out, or Felix and I will start something and you’ll be stuck with  _ his  _ soulmate.”

Sylvain laughed at that, predictably, and said, “Alright, alright, I get the message,” and gave Ashe’s shoulders a quick squeeze before letting him go. “Soulbonds aren’t a big deal to you. I guess I spent so long surrounded by people who see them as the pinnacle of romance, or the only reason to marry, that I forgot there are plenty of people who don’t.”

“It’s pretty much just the nobility,” Ashe pointed out. “The rest of us just… If it works out, it’s lucky, right? But if it doesn’t, you can still lead a good life.” Why were they still walking together? Hadn’t they said they were going to talk later? “And, if you decide to just be friends, you can be really great friends.”

After a few seconds, Sylvain said, “I always assumed I’d be disappointing to my soulmate if they weren’t a crestless noblewoman.” Ashe looked up at him and his face looked tense. “I can’t change what I already told you; I need to marry for Gautier. But I’ll always be on your side, y’know? If you can stand to be in my household, knowing how my life has to go, of course you’ll always be welcome.”

“Ohhhh, noooo,” Ashe said, smiling, and bumped into Sylvain gently. “What will I doooo? I was counting on my soulmate to make an honest man of me, and instead I’m gonna be living in sin foreverrrrr!”

“Hey, I was worried!” Sylvain scolded, but at least he was smiling. “I don’t… have much else to offer, other than the crest, so I was worried.”

“Well, same,” Ashe countered. “And I don't even have a crest. Think we can make it work, anyway?”

Sylvain pulled him into a hug, which was pretty forward, but Ashe relaxed into it once he got over the surprise. “Yeah. Yeah, I think we can,” he said into Ashe’s hair.

.-._.-._.-._

That would have been that, more or less, except that Sylvain proceeded to completely ignore him for the next few months. He was constantly flirting with girls and giving his poor-me-I-have-no-choice-but-to-marry-for-politics excuse every time Ashe called him on it. Ashe was better friends with his soulmate’s best friend than he was with his actual soulmate; at least Felix enjoyed sparring with him, and sometimes they got dinner after.

“Sometimes, I wonder if I’m intruding on you guys’ friendship,” Ashe admitted one evening when they’d slipped into the dining hall just before it closed. “Yours and Sylvain’s. You can tell me if I am.”

"Only by getting him to show off what a complete bastard he can be," Felix told him. "You can yell at him more, you know. Not your fault if he can't commit."

"Oh, we're not committed," Ashe said reflexively. "We agreed on that: we're just friends." Never mind that Sylvain talked to him with the same flirty demeanor he used when he talked to girls. Never mind that he leaned down sometimes as if he was getting ready for a kiss; that always just made Ashe want to slap him.

"Still. You didn't come to the amicable conclusion that you wanted to be friends; you agreed to it under inheritance-law-based duress. He shouldn't act like that in front of you."

"What about you?" Ashe asked, changing the subject completely. "How do you treat your soulmate? Have you met yet?"

"Don't have one," Felix grunted. "Guess I could just be late feeling the tug, but." He shrugged. "I always sort of got the feeling."

"Sorry if that was intrusive," Ashe apologized. "I didn't mean anything by it."

"Sylvain's just stupid about feelings," Felix told him. "It's just constant emotional self-sabotage from that guy. Whatever he does, it's the opposite of what he wants to do. Which is why he's treating you like garbage."

“There isn’t really anything I can say to that,” Ashe pointed out. Was he supposed to defend his soulmate out of soulbond-based loyalty? Was he supposed to agree with Felix, who was actually acting like a friend?

“I guess not,” Felix conceded. “He’s at least talked with you about your future, though, right?”

Had he? Ashe couldn’t remember anything like that. “Not that I know of.” Should he have?

Felix gave the eye roll of the century and then leaned across the table toward him. “Look. Your soulmate is the heir of House Gautier. He’s going to be a margrave someday. I know you’re not the type to just take that knowledge and live a life of luxury, and I respect you for that, so I want you to know two things. The first is that Sylvain should absolutely have told you this, and you can tell him from me that he’s shirking his obligations by not having this conversation with you. The second is that… For all intents and purposes, you’re safe. You can be a knight if you want, but you can also be… just a regular person, whatever it is normal people do. You’re not going to have to worry about money, and it isn’t going to be dependent on holding your tongue around your sponsor, or earning enough to eat during your travels. It’s not going to be dependent on anything. You aren’t related to him, but you’re not  _ not  _ related. Do you understand?”

It was weird for Felix to say that to him, right? It was weird for Sylvain to ignore him beyond friendly hellos for three months, and weird for them to be having that conversation in the dining hall, in public. “I think I need to confirm it with him,” Ashe admitted. “This is getting a little intense for me. Maybe we should just talk about that side strike we drilled earlier.”

Felix agreed. He was good at knowing when to push and when to back down. He was a good friend. Ashe frequently wished Sylvain could be half as decent as his childhood friend.

.-._.-._.-._

Sylvain, of course, was difficult to pin down, especially during the school week, and Ashe did actually have a life. Ever since he and Caspar had started caring for the monastery’s cats together (and begged an allowance from the grounds manager to buy cat food), they’d been spending more time together. They trained together, fed the cats together, and sometimes it fell on Ashe to keep Caspar out of trouble because the poor guy had about five times as much energy as common sense. That took up plenty of time in the evenings, and anyway, Ashe didn’t especially  _ like  _ Sylvain. Ashe’s soulmate used his resignation over his family’s intentions to cultivate a sort of careless cruelty, and he left a trail of broken hearts in his wake. Ashe just counted himself lucky he hadn't given his heart to Sylvain to break.

And he did the most perplexing things. He insisted they were “friends” while barely giving Ashe the time of day. He prioritized spending time with women and then dumped them all while keeping up his friendships with men, to the point that even Felix could barely name three of Sylvain’s flings. And he eschewed all discussions of honor and then challenged someone on Ashe’s behalf.

Ashe was nice. That wasn’t him blowing his own horn; he acted that way intentionally. He'd been in a lot of rough spots in his life, and he tried to approach people with the assumption that, if they were being jerks, there was a reason for it. He kept his head down, he didn’t complain, and he didn’t report the upperclassmen when they were rude to him. It wasn’t an oversight on his part; he just didn’t want to bother anyone on his own behalf. So it got worse, and kept getting worse, and when another student, who had to be at least twenty by the look of him, stole his book right out of his book bag, yes it was obnoxious, and yes, that was a big enough issue that he was totally going to tell one of the professors.

“Aw, look what the little pansy’s reading!” the guy said to his friends. “Loog, huh? You still read this stuff?”

“Yep, I still read about Loog,” Ashe admitted, trying to keep his voice flat. He winced as the guy opened the (new) book so hard the spine made a cracking noise.

“Aw, man, Rod, remember those stories? Real exciting stuff, when we were eight!” He looked down at the page he’d turned to, then looked back up at Ashe. “Sure this isn’t a little above your reading level, kid?”

He heard whispers behind him as he tried to keep cool about the destruction of his brand-new book. He just said, “I’m pretty sure I can handle a children’s book, thanks. But, if you feel like it’s a little simple, I can take it back any time.”

“Come get it,” the guy said, grinning, and lifted the book up as high as he could, the way Ashe used to when he was trying to keep his stuff away from his siblings. And, sure, Ashe wasn’t tall, and he was a little young as Officers’ Academy students went, but he wasn’t about to jump and beg to get his own book back.

And then Sylvain, of all people, stepped between them, hit the guy in the face with one of his gloves, and then dropped it on the floor.

His face was stony, serious. He stood with his hands in his pockets, casual but immovable.

The jerk who’d taken Ashe’s book lowered his arm to stand more normally and said, “Dude, what the fuck?”

“Give it back,” Sylvain ordered. Ashe had never heard him so quiet. He’d never heard him so serious.

“Dude, it was a joke--”

“You’re going to give the book back,” Sylvain told him, “And then you’re never going to pull that kind of bullshit again.”

Ashe recovered from his surprise just about then, and asked, “Did you just challenge someone to a duel over a book?” Sure, it was a nice book, but no object was worth someone’s life. He had a creeping suspicion that it was over something even dumber, like Ashe’s honor, but Sylvain didn’t give half a shit about him, had proven he didn’t over months of ignoring and teasing him and flaunting his relationships with women in front of Ashe.

The guy gave Ashe his book back, which was nice enough, but Sylvain was saying, “My name is Sylvain Jose Gautier and I challenge you to the blood on behalf of my soulmate.”

“Oh, this is just stupid,” Ashe told him. “Look, I’ll just report it to the teachers and--”

“This is entirely serious,” Sylvain told him, but his eyes didn’t leave the bully’s face. “Do you accept? I can meet you at the training grounds as early as tonight.”

“Eight o’clock,” the other guy said. He leaned down to pick up the glove, and when he straightened, he said, “My name is Duncan Kupala and I meet your challenge with swords.”

Sylvain turned abruptly, and spun Ashe around to guide him away with a powerful arm around his shoulder. “Where were you headed?” he asked as if nothing had happened, his friendly demeanor taking over again. “I’ll walk you there.” Over his shoulder, he called, “So sorry for the interruption, Ernesta! We’ll see each other tomorrow, right?”

Ashe vaguely heard someone call, “Creep!” after them, which was about as welcome to him as a duel on his behalf, but Sylvain didn’t flinch.

“Hey, if you’re after a crest, I bet that Duncan guy has one, too,” Ashe’s soulmate shot back easily, as if that had anything to do with anything. “Y’know, if you’re suddenly  _ not  _ into people who protect their soulmates.” His face was directly over Ashe’s head, but he felt like he could  _ hear  _ him wink. Then Sylvain drew back a little to look at Ashe. “You okay?” he asked. “Where were you headed, before?”

“What are you doing?” Ashe asked. “I didn’t want that.”

“Well, I thought I was protecting my soulmate,” Sylvain told him, sounding light and easygoing. “Can’t have people thinking they can mess with you like that.”

“You don’t care about me,” Ashe reminded him. “You barely even talk to me. What were you actually doing?”

“So suspicious,” Sylvain said, like it was silly for Ashe to call him out like that. “Will you be there tonight? I completely understand if you don’t want to see that asshole again.”

“Would you stop changing the subject?” Ashe asked. It was really starting to get weird. “Why are you dueling that guy? Why aren’t we just reporting him to the teachers?”

“And make you the school narc? No way,” Sylvain chided. “I’m glad I was passing by, if you were really planning to tell. It’ll be better to handle this privately, I promise. Now, where are we headed?”

Ashe shook Sylvain’s arm off his shoulder. The whole situation was bizarre. “I can walk by myself, okay? I’m not looking for your… whatever this is. Pity or guilt or whatever.”

Sylvain stared at him for a moment, then his fake demeanor came back and he said, “I just thought you might have trouble dueling him yourself, y’know? Since you specialize in ranged weaponry. Gotta cover for each other’s weak spots.” He bowed and said, “See you tonight, soulmate!” and then walked off down the hall.

Ashe shook his head. He didn’t want to dislike his own soulmate, but Sylvain was just so full of shit.

.-._.-._.-._

“Feeeeeeelix! We’re best friends, right?” Sylvain asked as he entered Felix’ room without knocking. Felix, ever full of contradictions, was usually  _ more  _ likely to do what he wanted if Sylvain annoyed him first.

“Who’d you piss off this time?” Felix asked without looking up from his homework.

“No one! Jeez, you’re so accusatory.” He flopped down onto Felix’ bed. “Someone pissed  _ me  _ off this time. I need you to second me.”

Felix scribbled something on the page in front of him and then said, “Pretty shitty joke.”

“It wasn’t a joke,” Sylvain told him. “A guy was being a jerk to Ashe, and now I’m gonna duel him tonight. So, second me?”

Felix snorted and almost-smiled. “Since when do you care about Ashe?” he asked. “Anyway, I’d be a terrible second; I don’t like frivolous duels like that.”

Why was Felix the second person to say that? “Of course I care about Ashe,” Sylvain protested. “He’s my soulmate, isn’t he? I’m fighting a duel on his behalf.”

“Uh-huh.” Felix continued writing. “Sort this magic formula out for me and I’ll tell you why that’s bullshit.”

“They’re making you drill magic theory?” Sylvain asked, sitting up. “That’s fucked. Let me take a look.” He lurched to his feet and went to hover over Felix’ shoulder.

The whole thing was a mess. It was a wind calculation, but the numbers made no sense and the variables used weird placeholders. “Uh… Okay, so what’s C in a wind spell?” he asked.

“What? No, this is thunder,” Felix told him.

“Wrong formula,” Sylvain said, turning away from Felix’ desk. “That’s why it isn’t working. That formula’s for wind. Now, please, insult me to your heart’s content.” And he flopped back down onto the bed.

“You didn’t even explain your obligations to him,” Felix said as he flipped through his textbook. “I mean, I get the fooling around on him. I don’t like it, but at least I understand why you’re doing it. But I shouldn’t have been the one to explain basic soulmate obligations to him. He just thought, hey, we’re unassociated, I guess we’re unassociated. You could at least have told him he was safe, guy like that who was out on the streets so long.”

"What? No, I told him. I told him the first day we met as soulmates: I'll take care of him. Fulfill my obligations. I was crystal clear about it."

"Uh-huh." Felix flipped through his magic text. "And you told him what those obligations are?"

"Everyone knows what soulmate obligations are," Sylvain reminded his friend. It wasn't like it was a big deal, especially for a wealthy house like Gautier.

Felix was glaring at him. "What? What'd I say?"

"You're such a fucking idiot sometimes," Felix told him. "Ashe was a street urchin for years and you thought you could just assume he knew noble social conventions?"

Felix had a point. Sylvain  _ should  _ have thought of that, but he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts of how he’d never, ever be able to marry his soulmate. “Well, regardless, I’m dueling a guy over him tonight. If you won’t second me, do you have any sword tips for your favorite lancer?”

“Nope. Have fun making a fool of yourself. Remember you’re responsible for bringing the healer.” Felix didn’t look up. Sylvain rolled his eyes and let himself out.

.-._.-._.-._

They all ended up arriving at the training grounds on time: Sylvain, Ingrid, and Mercie; Ashe, even though Sylvain had been certain he’d leave the noble brutes to it; and the jerk Sylvain had challenged and the guy he’d been bragging to over the stolen book.

“Hey, soulmate,” Sylvain said in his best, most cheerful flirting voice as Ingrid and Mr. Sidekick discussed the terms of truce. “Any chance you’d give me some luck?”

“I’m not here for you,” Ashe told him, not even looking at him. “I’m here in case Duncan decides to apologize to me.”

“If you kiss the hilt of my sword, I can make him apologize one way or another,” Sylvain promised, drawing his sword a few inches to be absolutely clear that wasn’t an innuendo.

“Look, I don’t care and you don’t have to pretend to care, either,” Ashe told him, and turned away from him slightly.

“Pretend? You think I would fight a duel over pretense?” Sylvain asked.

Ashe nodded. “Or your obligation or whatever. It’s fine; you need to do whatever won’t make the other noble kids hate you. But you don’t get to do the bare minimum and then turn around and tell me it’s because you care about me.”

It wasn’t that different from things girls had said to him, but it hurt a lot more. It kind of felt like a punch to the chest. Sylvain’s smile didn’t falter, but he did blink a few times as his tear ducts threatened mutiny.

“Fine. Cool. Flirt it up with Felix if you want; he’s free,” Sylvain said. He was pretty good at saying things that would tear him apart later in a calm tone that sounded like it was a snipe at the other person. He’d never done it right before a duel, though.

Ingrid started walking back just as he was asking Mercedes to kiss his sword, instead. The look she gave him was about as disgusted as he’d ever seen her, because of course no one could believe in him enough to do a cute little pre-duel ritual. Of course he wasn’t even worth that much.

“Alright, we’re reconciled,” Ingrid told them. Sylvain’s head perked up and he sheathed his sword. “He’ll be over in a moment.” She smiled a little at Ashe and said, “Turns out you were right to show up.” Ashe didn’t look too happy about it, though.

Sylvain kept a close eye on the apologies: Duncan came over, nodded and briefly bowed to Ashe, and said, “What I did earlier was wrong and you have my deepest apologies, Ashe Ubert of Gautier.”

Ashe froze and his eyes ticked to Sylvain.

“Of Gaspard,” Sylvain murmured.

"Not when the little runt has his prettyboy soulmate do all his fighting for him," Duncan said with an eye roll.

"You found our terms favorable, right?" Ingrid asked. Her shoulders were squared, her head held high. She looked like the heiress of a county.

After a hideously tense pause, Duncan bowed to Ashe again and said, "You have my deepest apologies, Ashe Ubert of  _ Gaspard." _

"Good," Ingrid said. She sighed and gave Ashe a hand up from the training ground bench. "Let's get in before a professor finds us. Oh, but Sylvain!"

"Mmh?" Sylvain said. It was a bit anticlimactic, he supposed, not fighting, but however grudgingly it was given, Ashe had received his apology and the upperclassmen knew he was serious.

"There's just one more bit. C'mere."

Sylvain walked toward her. It wasn't like he'd gone far from Ashe in the first place. "Yeah? I would've thought you'd have to handle our end, then, before they would-- uuuughffffff"

Ingrid's punch to the belly was hard and powerful and made Sylvain’s knees buckle over the course of the next few seconds.

"Might be smart, next time, to make sure your second doesn't think you're a pathetic child who goes around brandishing swords to avoid his real responsibilities," Ingrid counseled him when he was curled on the ground. She looked at someone her own height -- someone who wasn't suffering on the ground -- and said, "Make sure he feels it tomorrow." Mercie, then.

Sylvain rolled to his hands and knees, still winded, as Ingrid stalked away. He heard laughter from halfway across the training ground, because of course he did. What the fuck were those reconciliation terms?

"You know I'm not healing that," Mercie told him as she hauled him up by the shoulder and helped him sit on the bench a couple yards from Ashe.

"Aw, c'mon, making me beg for mercy, Mercie?" Sylvain joked.

"It was a tired pun a week into the school year and I don't actually have to heal injuries you get from outside the duel," she told him placidly. "Maybe try fixing the  _ reason _ you got hit and I'll consider it." She touched his stomach briefly, probably to confirm that it wasn't dangerous (just painful), then turned to go.

So Ashe was the last to leave.

“You can walk and stuff, right?” Sylvain’s soulmate asked, still sounding fed up.

He nodded. “Yeah… Just need a moment first.”

Reluctantly, looking uncomfortable and even disgusted, Ashe sat next to him instead of leaving.

“What do you think are your soulmate obligations?” Ashe asked. He sounded so pissed. Sylvain was such a shitty soulmate.

“Why’s this coming up now?” Sylvain asked. “I got the message: I won’t challenge anyone else over you. But I couldn’t back down earlier.” And if that was because he could barely keep from socking the guy in the jaw over the way he was treating Ashe, and not because he just felt so much ~soulmate obligation,~ it was probably better if Ashe didn’t know.

“Uhhhh, because you almost fought a duel over me?” Ashe leaned against him a little and his heart, honest to Sothis, skipped a beat. “I didn’t even know that was in the cards. What other over-the-top gestures are you going to do because you feel obligated? What are  _ my  _ obligations that I’m probably shirking because you never bothered telling me what they are? I thought you were just doing a terrible job of being friends, but apparently there’s other stuff going on, too.”

“Just… looking out for you, I guess,” Sylvain told him. “I dunno. I’d probably still be fucking this up, even if we  _ could  _ marry. I’m not very good at being good to people.” Tension gathered in his chest as he anticipated Ashe's response; that was way too true for him to drop casually at 8:15 in the training grounds.

Sylvain's soulmate was full of surprises. He didn't agree or disagree, just said, “If you feel like you’re fucking it up, then do it again,” and then turned to face him and asked, “what did you want to do instead of tonight’s shitshow?”

“Who knows?” That was the trouble with him: he wanted and didn’t want things in equal measure. He wanted to do right by people, but some asshole part of his brain wanted to hurt them, or he wouldn’t keep doing it. Never mind that it was always himself he was hurting first.

“If we’re doing this, we’re doing this,” Ashe told him. “You know what Shamir would say if I said the reason I couldn’t hit my mark was some vague ‘who knows’ bullshit? She’d tell me to do it over again until I figured it out. And then she’d correct my stance.” Had Ashe ever been pushy before? Sylvain couldn’t remember it. “What do you wish you’d done?”

“Kissed you under the moonlight,” Sylvain snapped. “What are you hoping I’ll say? I came here to fight someone.”

“I’m hoping you’ll say it wasn’t because I’m your soulmate,” Ashe told him, and no, he’d never been this pushy, he’d definitely never yelled at Sylvain before. “I’m hoping you’ll say you went through all this dramatic, noble garbage for me, not for our soulbond. I’m hoping you’ll stop shutting me out every time we start getting along.”

“Fine, then,” Sylvain said, and stood up, started pacing back and forth in front of Ashe. “I slapped Duncan with my glove so I wouldn’t actually slap him. I saw him being a jerk to you and I forgot Ernesta existed. I let Felix yell at me about what a miserable soulmate I am because there’s no way he could be angrier at me than I am. Now what? Now you know all that, and it does nothing except show you what a pathetic hypocrite I am for not acting on any of it.”

“Now you get to fix it,” Ashe told him, standing up. “If it’s all true, great! You know what’s wrong!” He stepped up to stand on the bench, towering over Sylvain, however artificially. “Now, how do you do things right?”

“How the fuck should I know?” Sylvain asked. “When have I ever done anything right? My whole life is just jumping ship from one fuck-up to the next; how am I supposed to know what doing the right thing even looks like?”

Ashe paused, still standing several inches taller than Sylvain thanks to the bench under him.

“Well? What would  _ Shamir  _ do? How will you adjust my stance when I never learned how to stand in the first place?” He was doing it again. He was being the jerk he didn’t want to be, but he couldn’t resist.

Ashe smirked. “She’d say to shut it with the self-pity,” he told Sylvain. “And I’d say that, too, but it wouldn’t be my first piece of advice.” He shuddered and Sylvain realized it was probably pretty cold out, for people who got cold in this sort of weather.

“What would you say, o wise soulmate?” he asked with a dramatic bow.

“C’mere?” Ashe asked, and shifted his weight.

Wary after Ingrid’s betrayal earlier, Sylvain approached his soulmate. Ashe just leaned toward him and wrapped one arm around him in a loose hug. “I’d say to stop acting like you expect people to hate you. It's hard enough feeling that way; you aren't doing yourself any favors by giving in to those feelings."

Just stop. Like it was so easy. Sylvain let out a long breath through his nose and didn’t protest against his soulmate. “They always do, though, eventually,” Sylvain pointed out, but he didn’t pull away from Ashe because he _ was _ a hypocrite. He wasn’t worked up anymore, though. He was just stating a fact.

“Well, yeah,” Ashe agreed, like it was obvious. “You make that happen. I wouldn’t _ kiss your sword _ , so you told me to go for Felix. Who does that?”

“Me, apparently,” Sylvain said, and it felt way too honest for his comfort.

Ashe nodded and he felt it against his shoulder. “Yeah. You.” And he kept leaning over Sylvain, his head too far over Sylvain’s shoulder to surprise him with a kiss and break the weird mood. “And I’m your soulmate, anyway.” He shivered again. “I guess you’ll just have to deal with someone sticking around and being on your side.”

“Let’s go in,” Sylvain suggested. “It’s cold out. I’d offer you my jacket, but you already have two.”

He pulled away and, weirdly enough, Ashe was smiling at him. “Is this the part of the book where it says, ‘when he said  _ let’s go in _ , he really meant  _ I love you _ ’? Because I could probably go for that.” He hopped down from the bench and was properly short again.

“Hey, don’t push it,” Sylvain warned, and bumped his arm against Ashe’s as they walked.

Ashe bumped him back, so that was good. And maybe it would all be good, sooner or later.


End file.
